


Reunited: A Twist and Shout based short story.

by dean_winchester67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Broken Dean, Cas Novak - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean Winchester and Cas Novak - Freeform, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak - Freeform, Dean and Castiel Novak, Depressed Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Elvis - Freeform, Elvis Presley - Freeform, Happy Castiel, Happy Dean, Happy ending Twist and Shout, Healthy Cas, Healthy Castiel, M/M, Overdosing, Pill intake, Presley - Freeform, Sad Dean, Suicide, Turntables, Twist and Shout, Twist and Shout happy ending, Vinyls, castiel novak - Freeform, death by overdose, happy destiel, record players, records, twist and shout destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_winchester67/pseuds/dean_winchester67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five long months since Castiel died on that beautiful Thursday, and Dean can't take it anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunited: A Twist and Shout based short story.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Twist and Shout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/537876) by [gabriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriel/pseuds/gabriel), [standbyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/standbyme/pseuds/standbyme). 



      Dean looked in the mirror of his small apartment bathroom, his breathing raspy and jagged. His eyes were full of tears, all of them raining one by one down his flushed but otherwise pale face. The man was breaking down right then. It'd taken months for it to finally happen, and he knew it was coming eventually. It was only a matter of time. However, no amount of preparation could have ever helped Dean. The last time he'd felt so terrible was the day that Cas passed, when he was holding his body as the life slowly drained from him. Now he was feeling that agony all over again, and all due to another vivid, terrifying dream he had the night before. It'd woken him up suddenly, making him scream out Cas' name in pure anguish and rage.

     It's been five months since Cas died. Five entire months full of self-loathing, depression, and alcoholism for Dean. He continued to see his young niece for a week or two after the incident, but after a while, he'd given up on everything. Sam still called Dean and begged him to come over, to at least get out of the apartment and get some fresh air. The last time the younger Winchester went over to the old apartment to check on Dean, the entire place smelled like stale cigarette smoke, mold, and various types of alcohol. It was obvious that Dean hadn't cleaned his home in a while, he didn't even look like he'd cleaned himself up either. He hadn't shaved in weeks, and who knows when he last took a shower. That one was a mystery even to himself at that point. What was the point of taking care of himself if his only reason for living was now gone? Dean couldn't get the love of his life back... And it was all his fault. He couldn't live with this death on his conscious, especially one of such great magnitude. He had blood on his hands that he couldn't ever wash off, and it was staining everything.

      Dean rarely left his apartment, which was the reason for his brother's increasing worry for him. He'd stopped working at Bobby's garage, and he even sold his beloved bike for cigarette and alcohol money. That was all he had anymore; drugs and booze. They were his prescription drugs, what helped him sleep at night, they helped him get through the day even if he was just barely scraping by. His new best friend was the bottom of a bottle of tequila; it kept him sane on lone nights when his mind drifted and wandered to dark places of past days, to people long gone, never to return. Dean had _promised_ Cas that he would move on, but he just couldn't. He had been trying for so long, but now he didn't see a point.

     Dean mostly spent his time sitting on the couch, a bottle in hand and a lit cigarette between his lips, avoiding The Twilight Zone and Star Trek on TV. When he saw a flash of it on the television, it broke him a little more. Dean would run over each time and turn off the television, and then he would cry, weeping so pitifully, that even the angels mourned his loss. Sometimes Dean would get so angry, he would throw old bottles of whiskey at the television screen. And sometimes when they shattered, shards of glass would ricochet back and hit his pale face, but he was too busy crying in blood, whiskey, and broken glass to notice.

     The nightmares only left Dean when his mind was too exhausted to torment him. This was only when he became so entirely intoxicated that he fell unconscious, or when he'd gone nearly a week without sleep. His nightmares were always extremely persistent. They were only of Cas and Adam. Nothing but old scenes replayed and made more vivid each time. He thought that if he had to live the rest of his life watching the two of them die, he might as well die too. The agony was too much to bear.

      Over and over, night by night, he watched that poor kid Adam's eyes get glassy and unfocused as he spoke the last words he ever would before his soul passed on to wherever it was going. Because if Dean was honest, he wasn't sure he ever believed in a Heaven, and he definitely would never after all that's happened to him.

      Over and over, night by night, he listened to the fatal flat-line of Cas' heart monitor and the waves crashing onto the beach. Each night, those waves seemed to be a bit angrier, more harsh and life threatening. They spoke to Dean each time they hit, taunting him and making his life more and more miserable each time.  _We'll never leave you. We're that ever-present guilt you'll have to live with every night until you breathe your last breath._

     Dean was done with it; the endless hurt and punishment for everything he’d done wrong since he was drafted into the war. So, there he stood with about fifty pills he'd gotten on the street from a sketchy man in a pile on the bathroom counter. He punched the mirror in frustration, slicing up his knuckles and causing glass to be strewn about the bathroom floor, like he'd be on the kitchen floor in just minutes. He already had every last detail planned out to the moment he’d exhale for the very last time.

      Dean scooped the pills into the palm of his hand before he turned and walked out of the bathroom, cutting the bottoms of his feet on the broken glass. He ignored the tiny stabbing pains he felt. It didn’t amount to the pain he’d felt over the years in the very slightest, even if most of it was mental and emotional anyways. Bloody footprints trailed behind him as he walked to his cramped and cluttered kitchen. His death was imminent, but it'd be short and before he knew it, he'd be with his baby again, where he belonged.

      The very man he'd given up his life to. The man that helped him get through this horrible, insane life and still want to continue on to see another day. The only man that he truly loved and couldn't get over. After Cas left such a huge mark on Dean’s life, he would never get over it being torn away. Now, he didn’t have to worry about getting over anything any longer.

     The elder Winchester scrambled into the kitchen, wanting to get everything done and over with so he could see _him_ again. Dean grabbed a piece of paper and a dull pencil, scrawling his final words down quickly, barely thinking about what he wrote. The words were quickly becoming smudged by tears, but Dean couldn’t care less. No one was going to bother to read this note except for Sam… And he didn't even know how long it'd be until Sam actually found it. He wasn’t even sure why he was bothering with it. Maybe it would be closure for his little brother. The note read:

_‘Dear Cas,_

_It's been five months since I've last seen you, since I've even heard your voice. I miss you, baby. You told me to get over you, and I tried. I really did. I did everything I could to avoid thinking about you, but it’s impossible. I couldn't do it. You made such a great impact on my life and I can't throw that away. How could you ever expect me to? You mean more than the world to me. You are my world._

_I started drinking more, and smoking more too. I'm not proud of that and I know you’d hate that, but I had no were left to turn. But now… I do. Its not a good road to turn down but you’re all I want, Cas. I_ need _you so badly.’_

      Dean stopped writing momentarily to get a glass of water. With that, he washed down ten pills at a time until they and the water were both gone. Once that was done, Dean coughed a few times to clear his throat and then continued writing.

_‘I just swallowed the pills, baby. I'll be with you soon, and I can hardly wait. I've missed you so much, and now I get to be with you again. Isn’t this great? We can be together again, Cas. We can go to the beach together, we can go on dates again. You can watch me race my bike and win us a bunch of money to get us that house out in the country, just like we always wanted._

_I love you so, so much, Cas. I’m almost there. I can feel it._

_See you then._

_\- D.W.’_

      Dean set the tear soaked piece of paper down on the kitchen table, smiling subtly down at it. He couldn’t believe he waited so long to do this. He was finally going to see Cas again. Minutes passed when an awful pain struck Dean's stomach. He cried out softly, falling onto his knees to the kitchen floor and clutching his stomach.

      There was a horrid burning sensation spreading throughout Dean's abdomen. He fell onto his side, hitting his head on a leg of the kitchen table. Another minute of pain went by before Dean started seizing, his mouth frothing up, white foam spilling from the corners of his lips onto the cheap linoleum of the kitchen floor. A groan escaped his quivering lips as he became enveloped in total darkness, his whole world spinning and crashing down with him.

      A few minutes later, Dean's body had completely stilled. His heart stopped beating as another minute passed, his last breath leaving him with it.

      When Dean’s eyes reopened, he was laying on his old couch. The apartment no longer smelled like a cheap bar. The broken glass that used to cover the living room floor in front of the television was gone, the empty bottles of tequila and whiskey gone with it. There wasn’t a cigarette in sight, none of the lights were blown out or broken. The room had a soft glow projected inside from what appeared to be the sun shining in through the windows. Dean was no longer filthy, and he looked to be fresh shaven and, well, healthy. Just as Dean thought this couldn’t get any stranger, his ears perked up. Was that really  _their_ song playing?

      _"Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you..."_

      Dean blinked a few times and stood up, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his rough, callused hands. Emerald eyes quickly scanned the room and widened. He gasped suddenly, taken aback when he saw the figure standing by the turntable, inspecting the  _Blue Hawaii_ album. He remembered that being one of Cas’ favorites.

      The figure turned around, deep blue eyes beautiful enough to put the oceans to shame meeting Dean's breathtaking jades. His dark hair looked beautiful and shiny, a stark contrast to what Dean remembered it last being – dull and thin. The figure's complexion was perfect as he remembered it being when he first met him. He flashed a beautiful smile, plush lips stretching to put his pearly whites on display. He looked so gorgeous, it almost made Dean want to believe in angels, because this had to be one standing before him.

"Dean!" Castiel exclaimed, his deep and warm voice filled with love and excitement. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked over the love of his life with a great happiness in his eyes. "You came back to me!"


End file.
